


Sleeping Beauty

by TwilightMaster15



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightMaster15/pseuds/TwilightMaster15
Summary: Amarantha didn’t curse just Tamlin 49 years ago; but every High Lord, except the rest were cursed into an endless slumber, in which the victim can only be woken by true love's kiss. While most courts managed to get around this for the most part, the Night Court struggled with the loss of Rhysand. Regent High Lady Morrigan and the Inner Circle are in a race against time to find his mate before Tamlin marries the girl. Sleeping Beauty AU.





	1. The Curse and a helping of Exposition

Morrigan hadn’t wanted Rhys to go Under the Mountain to that party with Amarantha, but he had, and insisted everyone else stay.

She was pacing around the House of Wind when she gasped as the power of High Lord moved to her.

Cassian turned to her, “Mor? What is it?” She was shaking, terrified for what this meant.

“I’m the High Lady of the Night Court.” Amren looked up from where she was sitting, her expression darkening, “His darkness isn’t dead, unless…”

It was mere moments later that Cerridwen and Nuala came in, carrying Rhys between them, before setting him gently on the couch in the library. 

“What happened?!” Cassian asked, shaking his brother, “Rhys? Rhys!? Open your eyes!”

“Amarantha.” Nuala said quietly, “Cursed all the High Lords into an endless slumber. Tamlin has forty-nine years to break the curse, but this riddle holds the answer to how to break the curse:”

Cerridwen recited the riddle, “There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet. And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet. At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair. But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare. By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet. But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat. For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow. When I kill, I do it slow... ” 

“The riddle holds the clue,” Azriel mused, “So we need to solve the riddle and then we need to find whatever it is to wake Rhys up.” They all turned to Rhys, who was unmoving, the only sign of life being the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“Well,” Amren walked around the library, looking for a textbook or anything that could help them solve the riddle and wake Rhysand, “How is Tamlin supposed to break the curse?”

“He has forty-nine years to find a human girl who killed a Fae, and make her fall in love with him.”

“Love? Love!” Cassian brightened, “That’s it! If Tamlin needs to make someone fall in love with him, why wouldn’t the same apply to the other High Lords and Rhys!”

“So he needs true loves kiss?” Morrigan wondered aloud, looking down at her cousin, “That means he needs his mate. But how? She could be anywhere, she might not be born yet!”

“Well,” Amren looked to Azriel, “It’s best we start looking now.”

OoOoO

All the courts were affected by Amarantha’s spell, some more than others.

Kallias was awoken by Vivianne within the week.

Thesan was awoken by his lover within the month.

Helion was awoken by the Lady of the Autumn Court after three months—which led to her becoming the Lady of the Day Court and Lucien being acknowledged as the heir of the Day court, and Eris simply became High Lord of the Autumn Court since nobody wanted to even try waking Beron.

Tarquin became High Lord of the Summer Court, since nobody could wake his cousin, High Lord Nostrus.

Morrigan was named Regent High Lady—since there is no such thing as a true High Lady, both Keir and Eris insisted, which made her blood boil—until Rhysand could be woken up.

Cassian and Azriel were out every day searching for females or even human girls who could be Rhysand’s mate, but came up empty-handed every time. They were all starting to lose hope in him every waking up. Tamlin hadn’t found any girl—and hadn’t even been trying all that much, damn tool, Morrigan mused—so it was unlikely for the curse to simply be lifted in twenty years.

Then one day, it was the Winter Solstice, and the Inner Circle was sitting bedside with Rhysand, when he started stirring and trying to open his eyes. Everyone brightened, and Cassian was holding Rhys’ hand,

“Rhys, come on, you’re almost there!” Morrigan found herself crying as Rhys opened his violet eyes, just a crack, but it was a start.

“Feyre…” and then his eyes closed again. Nobody knew what to feel, disappointment that he hadn’t remained awake, or thrilled that they now had a name that was likely that of his mate.  
“I don’t understand,” Azriel said, “I thought mates don’t know the name of the other unless they meet.”

“It’s likely part of the curse.” Amren explained, “Knowing her name. And I assume he woke up just now because this ‘Feyre’ was finally born.”

“Feyre is her name.” Cassian got up, “So I should go search Prythian for any newborn named Feyre and bring her to Rhys?”

“No. Not yet. She likely needs to bleed for the first time before the bond would even work enough to wake him. But yes, find her.” Cassian got up to go search again, and Morrigan looked to Azriel,

“Go check Tamlin’s progress.” She changed out her normal red dress and into a black one as she put on the mask of cruel High Lady who was going to go discuss with Amarantha, “I’m going to make sure Amarantha doesn’t have any ideas of Rhysand’s mate. We all know that if he wakes up, she’s done for.” Amarantha didn’t know Velaris existed, and Morrigan suspected that Rhys had used the last of his strength to put some sort of enchantment over the city so she never did.

“Good luck, Mor.” Azriel said, and she returned it,

“You too, Az.”

OoOoO

Nineteen years had passed, and Cassian had found Feyre in a human village, and had been observing her for three years. That was the good news.

The bad news: she was the girl Tamlin was supposed to seduce.

So Morrigan was out on Fire Night to see what she could do. There, she saw a human girl about to be raped. Memories of Eris flashed through her mind, and she simply tapped Feyre’s shoulder,

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” She looked to the three Fae who had been trying to assault Feyre, “Thank you for finding her for me.”


	2. From Calanmai to the end of ACoTaR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of Feyre and (mostly) Morrigan, with changes. From Calanmai to the end of the book. Trials are handled very differently.

Feyre kept her eyes on the three male Faeries, who had paled upon seeing her savior, their dark eyes wide.

"Enjoy the Rite." There was enough of a bite beneath the woman's—female's—words that the faeries stiffened. Without further comment, they scuttled back to the bonfire.

Feyre stepped out go the shelter of her savior's arm and turned to thank her.

Standing before Feyre was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Everything about her radiated grace and something that was close to but not quite ease. High Fae, no doubt. Her long golden hair reached her back in gentle waves, offsetting her tan skin and chocolate brown eyes. She smelled like citrus and cinnamon, a pleasant mix. She, too, wasn't wearing a mask. From another court, then.

For a moment, they said nothing to each other. But then the woman smiled pleasantly, "What's a human woman doing here on Fire Night?" There was no hostility, and Feyre found it welcoming, very much different from her time in the Spring Court, with Tamlin trying and failing to interact with her. Though in Tamlin's defense, he hadn't seen his best friend Lucien in nearly fifty years, so he wasn't used to interacting with people. But this female was still quite different from that, which urged her to anger honestly—unaware Morrigan was using her power of truth to find out, since she wasn't Daemati.

"I was curious and wanted to see the celebrations."

"Oh? Do you live around here?" The female asked, "Or are you one of those...what's the name?...Children of the Blessed."

"I live in the Spring Court with Tamlin." It was then that she caught herself, "Did you—?"

"Did I what?" The female asked with confusion either genuine or a convincing performance, "I just asked." She winked, "You're welcome, by the way. For saving you there." She went to leave, but turned, "Calanmai isn't the best place for a girl, Fae or otherwise, if you want your virginity intact. Males get kind of rapey on this night. You could always come with me, since girls gotta protect each other." Feyre thought about this. Tamlin had said she could stay anywhere in Prythian, and days with him were either uncomfortable or awkward. But she had just met this person, and for all she knew it was a trick.

_"Go to the High Lord,"_ the Suriel had said,_ "And you will be safe." _Feyre had constantly wondered what that was supposed to mean, since she was already with Tamlin, unless it meant a different High Lord. Still, it was too risky to even consider this before asking some questions.

"What court are you from?"

The female brightened, "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Morrigan, from the Night Court." Feyre nodded,

"Who's the High Lord?" Morrigan's expression changed to sadness for a brief moment, blink and you'll miss it, before she smiled again—though it didn't reach her eyes,

"The Night Court has a Regent High Lady. The blight tragically took the High Lord from us." Morrigan shook herself, "It doesn't matter whether you accept or refuse, I was just offering. Enjoy the Rite." She turned to leave, and Feyre called out to her,

"I'll think about it." Morrigan turned with a bright smile,

"I look forward to it." Then she vanished.

OoOoO

A couple months passed, and Morrigan was frustrated. Tamlin, the killer of Morrigan's aunt, uncle and cousin, had managed to seduce Rhysand's mate. Cauldron, damnit!

No. She tried to convince herself. This was good. If Feyre broke the curse by being in love with Tamlin, then Rhys still woke up. Then they could come up with a plan.

Well, that thinking didn't last long, because Amarantha had decided to send Morrigan to check how Tamlin was doing—for some reason, maybe because she and Rhys were cousins, everyone thought she was Daemati—to go taunt him, or something along those lines, Morrigan could admit to herself that she was only half-listening and spent that other half trying to will herself not to strangle Amarantha. The grand plan at this point if Tamlin fucked up was to have the entire Inner Circle beat the living daylights out of Amarantha. Seeing as she and Amren had destroyed the cabin once during a fight, adding on the two deadliest Illyrian warriors would spell painful demise for Amarantha. Only reason they hadn't already was the hope Tamlin would break the spell, Rhys would wake up, and he could join in on Amarantha killing.

But still, she was getting the opportunity to torment Tamlin a little for murdering three members of her family and indirectly causing this curse that made her lose the only member of her family she had left, her parents not counting since she had disowned them long ago.

She winnowed in, and immediately noticed Feyre was covered in a glamour. She narrowed her eyes at Tamlin, living Feyre's goblet and sniffing it, "Who's your guest?"

Tamlin held her stare, "I sent them off upon your arrival." Lie. 

"You're lying to me." Morrigan destroyed the glamor and looked Feyre directly in the eye. This was Rhysand's mate, and therefore no harm would come to her. Didn't mean she wasn't all for using the girl to scare Tamlin. Though if Feyre knew Tamlin's true colors, she would likely be fine with this.

"Leave, Morrigan." Tamlin commanded, standing a few feet behind her. Morrigan scoffed. Truth wasn't her only power. A whole mountain had shaken when she bled the first time, so a weakened High Lord was like a flea by comparison, and that wasn't taking into account her powers as High Lady.

Amarantha had only weakened the High Lords she had cursed, to make them actually fall victim to the curse, but the new High Lords (and Lady) were not so weakened. Tarquin knew he wouldn't win on his own and just wanted to protect his people, Eris was probably Amarantha's whore or something—though Morrigan didn't know exactly since she did everything she could to avoid her ex-fiancé—and worked with the horrid female. Morrigan herself was still waiting for Rhys to wake up so he could take back his High Lord power and kill Amarantha.

Morrigan turned to Tamlin, "After everything, Tamlin, you shouldn't talk to me like that." The expression on Tamlin's face made it clear he knew what she was referring to. Adelram, her uncle. Selene, her aunt. Amaya, her cousin. Rhysand, her other cousin. Taken from her, and he was to blame.

Her face was that of sadistic pleasure as she grabbed Feyre, using her powers to keep the human girl still, just enough to scare her and Tamlin without actually hurting her.

"Let her go," Tamlin said, bristling, but didn't advance forward. Panic, terror, had entered his eyes. Maybe he did truly love this girl, but he just had the vibe of someone who would only use Feyre as a decoration, baby maker, and party planner. No kind of life for Rhysand's mate. _"Enough, Morrigan!"_ Morrigan smirked,

"I forgot how delicate human minds were. Like eggshells." Feyre shuddered as Morrigan went on to explain the dirtier thoughts about Tamlin. This still wasn't mind reading, but a look in her eyes and an assessment of her body language gave Morrigan the idea. She was good at picking up on that, otherwise she wouldn't have figured out the fact Azriel was in love with her. Thankfully, Az had been busy trying to break the curse and therefore had less time to think about a love that would never be reciprocated. 

"Let. Her. Go." Tamlin's face was twisted in rage, and Morrigan loved it, since he couldn't do anything to her. 

"For what it's worth, she would have been the one for you," _if she wasn't the only one who can save Rhys_, "A bit late though. She's more stubborn than you are." She released Feyre, who sank to the floor, curling over her knees, trying not to sob. Morrigan felt bad for scaring the girl so badly, but it was a necessary evil. Same with this next part, "Amarantha will enjoy breaking her. Almost as much as she and I both will enjoy watching _you_ while it happens." Normally she wouldn't be so violent about her hatred of Tamlin, but this was over fifty years of rage that had been pent up, and healers did say it was unhealthy to keep it inside all the time.

Tamlin was frozen, his arms hanging limply at his side, "Please," was all he said. Morrigan's mind flashed to the idea of Selene saying that to Tamlin and his brothers as they killed Amaya. 

"Please what?"

"Don't tell Amarantha about her." 

"And why not?" Morrigan rushed at him and whispered in his ear, "You told your father and brothers where my aunt and cousin were going. Did my aunt say please, did she beg as you killed her daughter? I should tell Amarantha everything." Tamlin paled, realizing that his mistake then could cost him Feyre, even if she wasn't going to be Rhysand's High Lady. While Morrigan meant what she said about hating Tamlin and her reason why, it couldn't be farther from the truth that she would sacrifice an innocent girl to Amarantha just for the sake of revenge.

But Tamlin didn't need to know that. After all, they only knew each other because of Rhys, and had had a handful of conversations before.

"Please," he managed, almost unable to breathe. Morrigan pointed to the ground, and her smile became vicious,

"Beg. And I will consider not telling Amarantha." Tamlin, to her shock, got to his knees and bowed his head, "Lower." He pressed his forehead to the floor, his hands so close to Morrigan's heels that she wanted to step on them. But no, Rhys wouldn't want that, even after everything. That would be a step too far, kicking a downed male. But still, "Huh. Didn't expect that. You're desperate, Tamlin. It's off-putting."

"Are you going to tell Amarantha?" Tamlin asked, his face still on the floor. Morrigan smirked, 

"Maybe, maybe not. But I suppose..." she looked in Feyre's furious and afraid direction, "I could at least wait until after time is up. Wouldn't matter then." Tamlin's face was that of fury as she continued, "Though I am feeling particularly vindictive..."

Tamlin was up almost immediately with his claws at her throat. She didn't so much as flinch as she winnowed next to Feyre, "What's your name? I never got it on Calanmai." Feyre's eyes widened, managing to get out,

"_You're_ the High Lady of the Night Court!"

"You are correct." Morrigan replied, "But you never answered my question."

There was silence. Tamlin and Morrigan exchanged a look, before Feyre gasped out, "Clare Beddor." Morrigan wondered if this was a real person or a made-up name. Since she would have to tell Amarantha this name, she prayed for the latter.

Morrigan smiled at Tamlin, "Well this has been fun. I look forward to seeing you Under the Mountain." She looked back to Feyre, "Goodbye Feyre." Then she vanished, leaving both the remaining people in the room terrified at the use of Feyre's real name.

OoOoO

Time was up. Amarantha was calling all the High Lords, so Morrigan was required to go. She was sitting bedside with Rhysand, the hour before her departure. Her performance had worked well enough, Tamlin had sent Feyre away for her safety, and now Cassian was going to get her, explain the situation, and have her kiss Rhysand so he would wake up and be able to kick Amarantha's ass. Even if he was weakened still, with the Inner Circle by his side it wouldn't matter. Amren, they had discovered, was directly connected to the protection spells Rhysand had put up in his final waking moments, and her leaving would threaten them. Azriel was going with her as her Shadowsinger, and as backup just in case something went wrong. She hadn't wanted him to come, but he had insisted, wearing all seven Siphons.

"Everything will be okay soon, Rhys." She said, stroking his cheek. He was so peaceful while he slept, his hands folded over his stomach, as though he could wake up at any moment. But he wouldn't. She knew this, "Feyre will wake you up, if not now then whenever Cassian and Amren can talk her into it. Meet Az and I Under the Mountain to beat up Amarantha with us." She could have sworn she saw him smile a little, but blamed it on wishful thinking.

Azriel came in, "Ready to go?" he asked quietly, Truth-teller at his hip. She nodded,

"Azriel, are you positive you want to go? Your wings—"

"I will be fine, Mor." He assured. So, she left the building with Azriel and headed Under the Mountain, where she found Tamlin sitting in a black rock throne beside Amarantha. She could tell from Azriel's slight twitch towards his knife that she wasn't the only one with rage.

"High Lady Morrigan," Amarantha greeted, one of the only ones to not refer to her as Regent. Girl power, maybe? Or it could be the pretending to be loyal that got her the respect. Frankly, Morrigan didn't care. She bowed, and so did Azriel, when suddenly the Attor came in.

With Feyre.

Azriel managed to keep an emotionless expression, but Morrigan couldn't stop the flicker of terror in her eyes. What was she doing here?! NO! This wasn't the plan at all! 

(Though she had to admit that this was just proof of Feyre being Rhysand's mate, going to what was for all intents and purposes certain death to save the one she loves.)

"What's this?" Amarantha asked, no longer paying attention to Morrigan, which was the cue to leave.

"I've come to claim the one I love." Feyre said quietly, sparking Amarantha's interest. Morrigan paled, looking at Azriel, who was clearly a little confused. What could anyone possibly see in Tamlin?

"Oh?" Amarantha said, leaning forward.

"I've come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court." A gasp went through the crowd, but Amarantha just laughed.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't just destroy you where you stand." Then she frowned to herself, seeming to notice something. What was she noticing? Morrigan could only guess. She just hoped the bitch wasn't noticing Feyre's connection to Rhysand. Amarantha looked towards Tamlin a little, before leaning back in her seat, "I'll make a bargain with you, human. I'm bored to tears with Tamlin's sullen silence. You complete three tasks on my choosing—three tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs—and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove your dedication, to prove to me, to darling Jurian, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord."

"I want his curse broken too!" Feyre blurted, and the balls shown in that moment reminded Morrigan of Cassian. A smile almost escaped. Even if she wasn't Rhysand's only hope, Morrigan wanted to befriend Feyre after all of this was said and done. "I complete all three of your tasks, and his curse is broken, and we—and all his court—can leave here. And remain free forever."

"Of course," Amarantha purred, but Morrigan frowned at the lack of mentioning the sleeping curse, "I'll throw in another element, if you don't mind, just to see if you're worthy of one of our kind." _Worthy? Of Tamlin?_ "If you're smart enough to deserve him. I'll give you a way out, answering one question. A riddle. You solve the riddle, and his curse will be lifted. Instantaneously. I wouldn't even need to lift a finger and he will be free. But if you answer incorrectly..." she smirked in such a way that Morrigan was glad she hadn't mentioned Feyre or 'Clare Beddor'

Feyre still held firm, "If I fail the tasks?"

"There won't be enough left of you for me to play with." Amarantha replied, and Morrigan's blood ran cold, "You will have one task every month, at the full moon. In the meantime, you will either remain in your cell or do whatever additional work I require."

Feyre narrowed her eyes a little, "If you run me ragged, won't that put me at a disadvantage?" No, it wouldn't, because Morrigan could already tell she could scare the guards around here into leaving Feyre alone at all times.

"Nothing beyond basic housework," Amarantha said, and Morrigan partially wanted to force her to blurt the truth so Feyre could have a true idea what was going on. She hadn't missed the play with her words about only the riddle being instant freedom. "Are we agreed?" 

Feyre nodded, "Agreed."

The Faerie Queen looked to the Attor, "Give her a greeting worthy of my hall."

"Wait!" Morrigan said, "Shouldn't she know the riddle before getting a greeting." Amarantha then nodded, smiling at the look of defiance starting to flicker with fear as she now had a little time to imagine what that welcome would me.

“There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet. And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet. At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair. But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare. By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet. But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat. For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow. When I kill, I do it slow... ” It was the same riddle! YES! 

Morrigan pushed herself into Feyre's mind as the Attor and some others started to beat the poor human girl—communicating telepathically was something she could do, not mind-reading, only short-time communication she rarely if ever used,

_"I will tell you the answer right now, you and your High Lord can go, in exchange for one week a month for the rest of your life spent with me as an esteemed guest of the Night Court."_ She felt Feyre hesitate a little, before accepting it, a tattoo appearing on her hand and forearm that nobody noticed in that moment, "_The answer is Love!"_

"Stop," Feyre said, moments before losing consciousness, "The answer to the riddle...is love." Morrigan almost cheered as the curse was broken. Amarantha's eyes widened in horror, backing away from Tamlin. She looked to the Attor, nodding a little, 

And the Attor snapped Feyre's neck.

_NO!_ Morrigan roared, looking to Azriel, who already had Truth-teller out.

It was a group effort, though any one of them could have killed Amarantha. Morrigan pinned the Queen while Azriel and Tamlin went for the kill. Still, Amarantha smirked a little at Morrigan

"You think my death will wake up Rhysand?" She asked, choking on her own blood, "No, that curse wasn't broken. Without his mate, he will sleep forever." The knowledge Feyre was dead, Rhysand's mate was dead, therefore her cousin would never woke up, make her let the entirely of her power free, destroying Amarantha in so many ways that there was no way to pinpoint one specifically.

With that done, Morrigan leaned into Azriel's embrace, crying with both rage and sorrow. Tamlin scooped up Feyre's limp, broken body, cradling her to his chest. Lucien walked away from his parents and went to comfort his best friend who he hadn't seen in half a century. 

It was then that Morrigan stood tall as High Lady.

"We can save her," she said, remembering a particular book Amren had told her about, "The seven High Lords, together, we can bring her back." She looked around, "She just saved us all within five minutes, and paid the price for it. She did in five minutes what we couldn't do in fifty years! She deserves our help!" Somehow, this worked enough to get most of the High Lords to do it, to place a glittering spark upon Feyre. Morrigan added her own, and turned to Eris, who was not moving, "I put a good word in when you became High Lord, instead of one of your brothers. You _owe_ me this." Eris hesitated, before shrugging and adding his own.

And with that, Feyre shifted into a High Fae, coming to life and opening her eyes.

OoOoO

Morrigan and Azriel were telling the just-arrived Cassian what had happened the next day. He had been looking for Feyre, not thinking a human could get there so fast, and he had met her sisters. Both High Lady and Shadowsinger could tell their friend found some sort of attraction in Nesta.

Feyre came out, examining Azriel and Cassian's wings, and the red dress Morrigan was wearing. 

"Why?" She asked Morrigan, wiggling her hand with the tattoo, "Why did you offer the answer like that? Why do you want a week a month?" The two Illyrians were silent as Morrigan smiled,

"I offered the answer because I didn't want to see you tortured needlessly. As for the one week, it's not every day you get to see a human with the bravery to confront Amarantha. I want to get to know you." She looked to her friends, "Cassian, Azriel, meet Feyre." Cassian was the first to shake Feyre's hand, though she hesitated,

"Come on Feyre, we don't bite. Unless you want us to." Azriel turned,

"I don't think anyone has taken you up on that." Cassian shrugged, and Morrigan moved him out of the way,

"Sorry." Feyre just smiled,

"Thank you. For helping me, for not telling Amarantha anything about me or Clare." Morrigan patted Feyre's shoulder,

"Tamlin and I have some issues, but that doesn't mean I'm going to get innocents involved." 

Feyre frowned, "What issues?" But Morrigan put a finger to her lips. As much as she wanted to reveal it, Feyre might think she is lying. Let Tamlin ruin the relationship first, then she would start working on getting Feyre to kiss Rhys.

"My secret." She then softened, "Be glad for the human heart you have, Feyre. Trust me. Being immortal is great if you have that, the love of simple things and that care. Pity those who don't feel anything at all."

Then she and her Inner Circle vanished, leaving Feyre alone on the balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACoMaF is in this story, but that's where the Feysand starts and best to get Feylin and Amarantha out of the way now. And Feyre isn't broken now, since she didn't suffer and didn't kill anyone.


	3. In which Feyre is aware Tamlin sucks, Lucien has a backbone, and Ianthe is locked in a closet

_Feyre’s body was screaming at each step she took, but her only thought was to get back to him. She needed to see him, after the long battle against the ferocious dragon she had just had. After her exhausting fight with the King of Hybern, her battle leathers were torn in multiple places._

_No one, not even the all seven High Lords, could deny her this. Even a dragon tried and couldn’t stop her from getting to her sleeping mate._

_She was unstoppable._

_The thought of the sleeping male, with those violet eyes and smile that could light the darkest night, made her heart soar, giving her a much needed boost as she approached the tall tower that kept him safe until her arrival._

_Feyre was tired, so much in fact, that she felt like the muscles of her legs would fail her as she started the final assent to reach the cursed male. But her need to see him safe from any harm kept her legs moving, not giving in to her pressing need to rest._

_Her love was waiting for her to wake him from the Amarantha’s enchanted slumber, and that’s what she would do. No matter what._

_She ran up the stairs, and nothing would stop her now. _ _She needed to know that he was safe. _ _Sleep and rest would come later._

_Out of breath, Feyre reached the room, bathed in the soft light of dawn. Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she saw the raven-haired male’s sleeping form on the bed. She left her blade on the foot of the bed, bloodied and muddy, and she approached the peaceful male._

_Never had she seen anyone as beautiful and calm as him in that moment._

_His thick, black eyelashes complimenting tan skin. His raven hair was gently brushed back, his hands folded over his stomach. His lips were chapped like he hadn’t had a drink in days, his mouth a tiny bit open, showing the ghost of a smile. _

_She caught her breath as she sat on the edge of the bed and took his rough and callused hands in hers, which now wore the signs of battle in the several cuts and fresh bruises they sported._

_“My love,” she said in a soft whisper. “I’m back.”_

_She placed her dirty, sweaty forehead against his. Finally she found him. Nothing would take him from her anymore. She would make damn sure of it._

_His soft breath caressed her face, making her heart skip a beat._

_This was it._

_The moment she would prove to the world that their love was stronger than any curse, stronger than evil incarnate itself._

_With the gentlest of touches, her lips touched his. She wasn’t expecting the searing hot feeling that shot into her whole body at the faintest touch of their lips. It was as if a living thing had just embraced them both and wrapped around them in a protective cocoon._

_This was it. The power of true love._

_Slowly she felt his lips move against hers. Choking down a sob, she rested her forehead against his._

_“Prick, you’ve been sleeping for a long time, people have missed you,” Feyre said in a whisper against his lips. She kept her eyes closed but she felt him smile against her lips._

_“I’m sorry, Feyre Darling,” he replied, as his hand found the back of her head and pulled her in for another, deeper kiss, “Maybe I just needed you to come wake me up.”_

Feyre jolted awake in the Spring Court, a hand on her chest. Tamlin slept beside her. 

Another one. Another dream of her kissing that other male. 

It had been three weeks since Under the Mountain, and she had been constantly haunted by those dreams. Judging by the surroundings outside, he was from the Night Court, and that just reminded her of her bargain with High Lady Morrigan.

Walking downstairs, she went to make herself breakfast to get up before Ianthe was awake. Tamlin’s old friend was a huge pain, and only wanted her to wear pretty dresses. With Ianthe around, Tamlin didn’t pay attention to Feyre.

In the kitchen, she saw the heir of the Day Court, Lucien, who was visiting until the wedding in three months. 

Lucien's skin was tanned, and he had crimson hair. His eyes were russet colored. His features were described as sharp, elegant, and ethereally handsome. He wore a soft gold tunic and white pants.

“Oh, good morning Feyre.” He said cheerfully, “You’re up early. Is Tamlin _that_ unpleasant to sleep with?” He winked. Feyre flushed,

“I’ve just had a weird reoccurring dream. And I want to get up before Ianthe can ruin my day, appreciate pants while I can.” Lucien nodded. In all honesty, Lucien was more pleasant than Tamlin at times.

“Yeah. Ianthe sucks, I’d almost prefer my half-brothers over her.”

“Isn’t she lusting after you?”

“Exactly.” Lucien handed her some breakfast, “If I have to deal with her anymore, I might head back to the Day Court.” Feyre grinned,

“Could you take me to the Day Court sometime?”

“No.” They both groaned when Tamlin came in, “That will send a message, having a female discussing with other courts.” Lucien crossed his arms,

“Tamlin, don’t be an idiot. Feyre is her own being. If she wants to visit the Day Court, I can gladly take her. She will be protected too.”

“No.” Tamlin’s claws were poking out as he got up in Lucien’s face, “She needs to be protected in the Spring Court. And that is final.” He turned to Feyre, “How about you go try on more dresses with Ianthe.”

Feyre groaned and went off to Ianthe. She was sick and tired of Ianthe and Tamlin’s overprotectiveness. Why was he like this? Sure, she had gotten her neck snapped Under the Mountain, but it was over in minutes, she was fine.

Ianthe was already there, looking over dresses. Feyre huffed and sat down with her.

At lunch, Lucien came in,

“I know it’s not much, but do you want to head down to the village with me to help the people get ready for the Tithe in a few months?” Feyre brightened,

“You’d let me go?” Lucien nodded,

“I think you are a strong and independent person. Tamlin shouldn’t be bossing you around. He may be my friend, but I am very close to the same status as him, so if I think you’re suffocating in here and want you to get some time outside doing what you want to, I think that’s great. I can tell you more about the Day Court too.”

Feyre immediately changed into a tunic and pants, “What about Tamlin?”

“Out hunting nagas or some other creature.” Was the nonchalant answer, “And I managed to get Ianthe distracted.” That sparked her interest,

“How?”

“I locked her in the closet. I’ve already left a note in Tamlin’s room saying she’s been harassing me, and I’m heading back to the Day Court tonight anyway so he can’t yell at me.” He winked, and Feyre then looked to the scar on his cheek. It was small, but it looked like he had been attacked.

“What happened there?” They were in the stables now, getting on the horses. Lucien shrugged,

“Amarantha tried to cut my eye out. However, that was the same day my real Dad woke up and Mom told him he had a son. My Dad stormed Under the Mountain, screamed at Amarantha to not lay a finger on his son—the shock of him being awake was enough for Amarantha to let me go for long enough to get away—and he took me back to the Day Court. My former-step-father was not pleased. I know I could have lost my eye if Dad got there ten minutes later. Now I’ve just got a scar on my cheek.”

“How did you feel about learning you had a different father?”

“Beyond elated. It was a little weird at first, but I really like my real Dad. My half-brothers and Lord Beron treated me like shit. My brothers…killed my lover, Jesminda, in front of me…” his eyes took a distant look, before brightening back up, “But I always loved my mother. She’s so much happier with Dad. I’ve missed Tamlin, but I really appreciate having a real family. And I got to know Lady Morrigan quite well.” Feyre halted her horse,

“You know her?!”

“Oh course I do. Dad’s wanted to have a foursome with her, Cassian, and Azriel for at _least_ a century. Since Mom was sleeping with Beron for a long time, she’s in no place to judge and is fine with it. She may play the role of cruel High Lady, but that’s just because she was trying to protect her people who she adores, and she has some issues with Tamlin. No clue what those issues are, just that Tamlin and Morrigan’s cousin, the former High Lord, became High Lord the same night. If you want me to, during your week in the Night Court, I could come visit.”

Feyre smiled softly, “I’d really like that. Morrigan may have been the one to truly save us all, but I’m still nervous.” She looked at the tattoo on her wrist, “Is it bad that with how overprotective Tamlin is acting that I’m a little excited for a break?” Lucien blinked,

“Feyre, you don’t belong to anyone. I’ve only known you for a little bit and I already see you will never be some party-planning, child-bearing trophy wife. I feel you will be a great leader for the Spring Court.”

She hopped off her horse about a quarter mile from the village, “So I will be High Lady?”

“No.” Lucien explained, “The only reason Morrigan is, is since she was the former High Lord’s only blood relative. Tamlin probably won’t change the rules. You will be Lady of the Spring Court.” He nudged her with his elbow, “But between you and me, the Day Court has already been thinking about changing that. I know the Winter Court would follow. Maybe you could talk Tamlin into starting the trend.”

Feyre sighed, “I doubt that.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder in a friendly way,

“Well Morrigan is picking you up tonight. Maybe that will make him realize he’s taking you for granted. Even if Morrigan gave you the answer to the riddle, I went to a seer, who said you would have own the trials. Beside, it takes a ton of bravery to go Under the Mountain as Fae—even more impressive for a human.”

They arrived in the village, and Feyre was horrified to see the broken houses and the starving people. It was this bad?! She had never seen the villages before. Lucien seemed shocked as well, before tying his hair back.

“Well, we have work to do.”

OoOoO

They got back late at night, close to nine. Lucien and Feyre snuck into the mansion, giggling and having a good time after spending all day helping the villagers, when the light turned on and Tamlin was sitting in a chair angrily.

“Where were you two?” He demanded, glaring at Lucien especially. Feyre was about to explain when Lucien, with a straight face, said:

“We went riding. I fell off my horse and rolled down a hill. Feyre got dirty while pulling me out of the mud. I’m still getting used to the Spring Court territory.” He lied. He just lied to his best friend’s face without any hesitation. 

To Feyre’s relief, Tamlin seemed satisfied by the answer, “I’m glad neither of you were hurt. But come back sooner and be in cleaner areas. Feyre, you should try that riding dress Ianthe found.” 

Before she or Lucien could groan, there was a flash of lightning and Morrigan appeared, wearing her red dress and gold heels. She didn’t look so much like Queen of the Night and more a simply gorgeous female.

“Hello Feyre!” She said excitedly with a sing-song tone, “I am here to pick you up!” Tamlin put an arm in front of Feyre,

“Don’t you dare—”

“We have a bargain, and you know the consequences of trying to interfere.” Morrigan held a hand out to Feyre, “Ready to go? Do you want to pack anything?”

Feyre was a little hesitant, but she was fed up with Tamlin’s overprotectiveness, was ready to get out of the damn dresses, and wanted to see if she could figure out who that male in her dream was. She nodded,

“Can Lucien come? He said his father needed him in the Day Court, and I assume this would be faster.” Tamlin seemed angered by this, and Lucien shrugged,

“Sorry Tamlin,” Lucien apologized, “Father’s having trouble with something and needs my help. As his heir, it’s supposed to be good experience.” Tamlin begrudgingly nodded, glaring at Morrigan,

“If you hurt her…” Morrigan whispered something in Tamlin’s ear, and both Feyre and Lucien were started when she whispered loudly enough for them to hear,

“Then we’d be slightly closer to even.” She pulled away and spoke in a normal voice, “Worry not, she will return, safe and sound, and have started learning how to read.” Morrigan took the hand of both Feyre and Lucien.

And then they were in a bedroom of some sort. It was really beautiful. Feyre had expected something dark and scary like Tamlin had described. Lucien was looking out the window,

“It’s wonderful as usual.” He smiled sheepishly, “I was lying when I said Dad needed me. Feyre said she’d be more comfortable if I was here.” Feyre was afraid Morrigan would be offended, but instead she laughed,

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine, Lucy.” Lucien flushed at the nickname.

“Mor, I thought I told you not to call me that.” Morrigan rolled her eyes,

“Fine. I’ll have Nuala set up a room for you, Lucien. Or do you two want to share a room with two beds? I’m fine either way.” 

“Can we have conjoining rooms?” Feyre asked, “So we have our own space but can cross over?” Morrigan nodded,

“That can be arranged. Come along,” then she froze, “Okay, first I want you two to bathe. Sadly, Feyre, there are no dresses, just some Night Court pants and shirts. Get clean and I will have dinner out.”

Lucien turned to Feyre, “You got dirtier than I did, you go first.” Feyre nodded, and Lucien turned to Morrigan once they were alone.

…

“She’s been having dreams of Rhys. Tamlin came to yell at me in a fury one night when she moaned Rhysand’s name while asleep.” Lucien said, “Speaking of which, how is he? Any change?” 

Yes, Lucien knew pretty much everything. The Day Court and the Night Court had become strong allies over the last fifty years, and since Lucien had been fully aware of the sleeping curse, he knew Rhysand’s fate. He didn’t know the former High Lord too well, but he did know Feyre was the key to waking Rhys up—not because they were mates, he didn’t know that part—just that her being Made might have given her special powers that could help.

Morrigan sighed, “He’s not awake. He twitches from time to time, but he shows no sign of waking up. Amren says that since Amarantha’s power-weakening curse was gone, he might be able to actually hear us. I have hope. Now we need to train Feyre with her powers so maybe she can wake him up.”

“And after that? Once Rhysand is awake, he will be High Lord again. I don’t know much about how he ruled.” She looked out the window,

“He was a dreamer. Ruled his people with passion and love—except the Court of Nightmares, but they exist separate from everything else in his court and can go fuck themselves—and fought to help the humans in the war. If he knew about the threat Hybern is starting to pose with the temple raids, he would do everything he can to help.” Lucien nodded to himself,

“I will look more into Hybern, but I can already say you have the Day Court’s support. As Tamlin’s friend, I’ll try to persuade him to have the Spring Court help. You were really helpful with my adjustment to being a true heir, and Cassian and Azriel helped me with training more. And Feyre’s my friend, and she will want the humans to remain free.” She nodded,

“Right.”

Feyre came out, changed into some Night Court clothes, and her hair was braided, “Lucien, your turn.” Lucien grateful went to clean himself off.

…

Feyre looked to where Lucien was leaving, “What were you talking about?”

“Political stuff.” Morrigan shrugged, “Some raids in temples. Nothing for you to worry about just yet.”

“I want to get involved.” Feyre insisted. Morrigan smiled,

“I know. I promise you it isn’t anyone’s concern yet. Lucien and I were just musing if something had the possibility to be a threat. I’m sending Azriel out tomorrow to investigate. If there is anything, I will tell you.” She held out some meat and fruits, “It’s not much, but I assumed you would ova eaten.”

“No, it’s great, thank you.” She ate her food, and Morrigan sat down with her,

“So this week is going to have Lucien and I teaching you how to read.” Feyre sighed,

“Tamlin doesn’t want me to read, or train, or do anything other than plan parties and wear pretty dresses. It’s almost like he’s a completely different person than the male I fell in love with.” She didn’t notice Morrigan needed to sip some wine to hide the smug laughter trying to escape. She was completely unaware the High Lady of the Night Court was winning the bet made by the Inner Circle on how long until “feylin” crumbled.

“Maybe he’s just stressed? Ianthe is a pain in the ass, believe me I know. My cousin hated her guts.” Feyre actually burst out laughing at how blunt Mor was about that.

“Who is this cousin of yours? I already want to meet him or her and ask what they did to deal with her.”

“See, Ianthe had decided to spread herself out naked on his bed for him to find, hoping to get offspring out of him. He kicked her ass out, and she was still naked.”

“YES!” Feyre was laughing so hard she was crying, “Take me to this male, I need to meet him.” To her surprise, Morrigan’s expression darkened, “Are you okay?”

“Rhys…” she said slowly, “Has been in an enchanted coma for fifty years. No matter what we try, nothing will wake him up. He’s the only family I have, so I’ve been doing everything I know.” Feyre gasped quietly. Was the male in her dream…the former High Lord? Why was she kissing him? So desperate to get to him? She loved Tamlin. Sure, this Rhys sounded great having kicked Ianthe out on her ass, but she still didn’t know him.

“I’m sorry.” She said, “Is there anything I can do?” Morrigan perked up,

“Yes.” She stood, “Amren, my second, and I have been discussing. You were made my the seven High Lords, so it makes sense you have some of their powers. The combined power of seven might be enough to wake him up. But we would have to train you.” At Feyre’s bemused expression, and shrugged, “You said you wanted to get involved. And trust me when I say that waking Rhys up is the best move we can make if there is any threat. Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord in Prythian history. Wake him up and any war is basically won.” Lucien came out,

“Telling her about Rhysand?” Feyre was about to ask how Lucien knew, but them remembered Day and Night were allies. Of course Lucien knew. 

Morrigan nodded, “Yup. This week will be reading practice. I’ll give you the month to think about it, and then we will do writing practice and you’ll start meeting Cassian, Azriel, and Amren for longer periods of time. I don’t want to overwhelm you. Month after that you can decide if you want to help us wake Rhys.” She turned to leave, “But you both look tired. Sleep for tonight, and we will continue to talk in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Lucien was acting OOC, but I assume he would be different having had a happy family for 50 years. And I hated the idea of him just submitting to Tamlin when he could see Feyre was suffering. And yes, I had Helion arrive and save Lucien before he got his eye cut out. You will get to see Lucien, Lady of the Autumn Court (need to give her a name O.O) and Helion interacting.


	4. In which Feyre gazes upon a sleeping bat

Over the next week, Feyre was loving her time in the Night Court. She was learning how to read, spent quality time with her new best friend Lucien, and Morrigan was a joy.

She'd also been meeting the inner circle. Cassian was teaching her how to fight, and Azriel watched quietly. 

To put it simply, where the answer was "no" for everything in the Spring Court, the answer was "yes" in the Night Court.

Except for the Rhys situation. Nobody told her much about him other than the fact he was the former High Lord. And since she had been told she could go anywhere in the castle, night six had her looking around the castle to see if she could get a clue.

It was then that she discovered there was a whole nother tower in this castle. A small part of her said there was a reason Rhys wasn't brought up, but what if there was something else? Her dreams had been haunted more and more by that violet-eyed male, and some dreams took place with him awake, smiling, purring her name.

_ "Hello, Feyre Darling." _ He had said last night, only much more broken and less flirty, _ "I'm surprised you haven't found me yet. Please come find me. I can't be alone anyone." _

It was in that moment, jolting awake a mere hour ago, she decided she had to find him. Was it just a dream? Or was he actually communicating with her? If he was real, he needed help, and she wanted to know what she could do to aid him.

She got flashbacks to some of her dreams as she walked up the tower steps, and her heart knew this was the right way. But what would Tamlin think? He would be hurt that she was trying to find some other male. But right now, with her very soul screaming at her that she needed to locate this male she suspected was Rhys, she didn't care.

Barging into the tower room, she got a stunning view of the world outside, and mountains and the starry night sky. Morrigan was right that the Night Court really did have the best nights. She found herself yearning to paint it but knew nothing could capture the perfection of the world out there.

Or the male fast asleep on the bed, identical to the male in her dreams. A male who put Tamlin to shame, and he wasn't even awake.

Without thinking, she sat down by his side and shook him gently. He didn't respond other than a small exhale at being shaken. But there was no sign it had woken him.

She smiled, "I found you, Rhys. Your name is Rhys, right? Is that short for something?" He didn't reply.

_ "Please come find me. I can't be alone anyone." _ Looking at him, at his clean close and the room, and the picture of the Inner Circle by his bedside, he wasn't alone. But...maybe he was. If this was Amarantha's curse, to fall deeper and deeper into an endless sleep for eternity, perhaps he was in such a deep sleep that he wasn't aware of the people who stayed by his side.

But then...why? Why could he talk to her? Was it because she had a kernel of his power? That had to be it, but that still begged the question of why he couldn't talk to Morrigan, his own flesh and blood. Maybe he could.

She shook him a little more forcefully, "Come on...if you can talk to me, can you open your eyes for a second?"

"He won't wake." Feyre turned and saw Morrigan with a sad smile on her face, "He's alive, but only just. It seems that over the years he's been getting worse, falling deeper and deeper in his sleep...I'm beginning to fear he will never wake up, even if we find the cure. He used to respond a little bit, but if even you can't get him to respond..." she shook her head, sitting down, "What brought you looking for him? And don't say you stumbled upon him, I have a spell on this tower so only those looking for him, with no ill intent, can find him."

"I've had dreams about him," Feyre admitted, "But since coming to the Night Court, he's started talking to me. Telling me to please come to find him and he can't be alone anymore. He sounded scared and desperate tonight, and it convinced me he was real, and I needed to find him." She looked at the sleeping male, so peaceful, but she could also sense a battle being waged inside, and Rhys was losing strength, beginning to fail.

Morrigan gasped, tears falling, "At least he can still wake up if he can communicate with you."

"Does he communicate with you? Because my only theory is that its because I have a kernel of his power."

"That probably is why. Remember, Rhys isn't dead, so I am only Regent High Lady. If things get to a point where he either dies or will truly never wake up, I will become official High Lady. But you have a kernel of his true power, so he can talk to you."

Feyre looked to Rhys, "He means a lot to his people, doesn't he?"

"He was the most beloved High Lord the Night Court has ever seen, and he had been working to bring female equality to the Illyrians when..." she smiled, "He's a dreamer, and he improved everything with his vision. We all would do anything to wake him up."

Feyre absently found herself holding Rhys's hand, barely noticing the small squeeze she got in turn, thinking it was just her imagination.

"I want to help you. I can only imagine how the Spring Court would feel... how I would feel if I lost Tamlin. He'll understand that I'm trying to help a dreamer's court by waking up the High Lord." Morrigan's eyes widened,

"You cannot tell Tamlin or anyone what we're doing. You can tell him about the training, but not why."

"Why?"

"Well, I know the Autumn Court would kill you if they learned you have some of the High Lord's power. And let's just say Tamlin and Rhys were not on good terms."

"What happened between them? How could anyone hate Tamlin?" 

"Trust me, Feyre, you are not ready for the truth just yet. I don't think Rhys has even fully coped with it yet and it's been over a century. And if anyone is going to tell you, it should be Rhys. And seeing as Tamlin was at fault and wants to shield you from the world, do you really think he'd tell the truth?"

Feyre gaped when she realized that no, she didn't trust Tamlin to tell her the truth without sugar-coating it. He treated her like a damn doll ever since Under the Mountain, acting nothing like the male she'd fallen in love with. Maybe he was just stressed and would return to normal, and the Tamlin she knew would understand. Her Tamlin would want to make things right with Rhys, and what better way than helping wake him up?

"Okay." She agreed, "Since I'm supposed to go back tomorrow, I'll train with Lucien and see if I can get in contact with Rhys some more." 

Morrigan brightened, hugging her, "Thank you, Feyre."


	5. In which Tamlin almost isn't a prick

Feyre strutted into the Spring Court excitedly, eager to tell Tamlin about all she had learned. She remembered him trying to teach her how to read back when she first arrived here, so he should be happy for her.

She saw Tamlin in his study, which was destroyed. He looked up at her with a gasp, running towards her and pulling her close.

"I'm okay, Tamlin. Overjoyed actually." He froze, looking down at her Night Court attire, "Tamlin, I want to tell you everything!" She froze at Tamlin's cold expression, his eyes wild.

"Good." He sat her down, "Tell me the layout first, and then Morrigan's most trusted allies." Feyre then got up,

"What!? NO! I'm not going to be interrogated by you! I was just going to tell you about my trip, and that I think I know a way you can set things right with Rhysand!" Tamlin then staggered back as though he had been burned.

"R...Rhysand? He's dead."

"No, he's not!" Feyre and Morrigan had agreed she could tell Tamlin anything that couldn't be turned against them if Tamlin decided to turn on them for whatever reason, so no mentioned how Feyre's powers could be the key, "Rhysand has been communicating with me through my dreams. He knows how we can wake him up, and I want to help Morrigan wake up her cousin. And think about it Tamlin, I don't know what happened between you two, but I know that you want to make it right. And what better way than to help us wake him up from an eternal slumber?"

Tamlin sat back down with her, softening back into the male she had known, "I'm surprised they didn't tell you what happened, try poisoning your mind."

"Don't think so negatively of them," she said playfully, "They taught me to train, and to read, and how to start using my powers. You would have loved it there." She smiled softly, "Morrigan actually said there was no currently known way I could hear the story without bias, so I won't push right now since I want to know the truth. But Morrigan did want me to ask you what happened the night the curse started, so we can find a way to break it."

Tamlin sighed, "You're delicate, Feyre. You shouldn't be training. I'm glad you've learned to read, but training your powers will send a message."

"Not if the other courts don't find out." She grinned, "Come on, Tamlin, it's only for self-defense and control purposes. I have no plans on going to war or anything."

Tamlin sighed, "Fine. I'll tell you what happened. In return, you tell me the layout of where you were staying."

"Deal."

Fifty years ago

Tamlin was sitting by the wine when Rhysand walked over, a feline grin on his face. 

"Good evening, Tamlin. Long-time, no see. How are you doing?" The High Lord of Spring was confused. Rhysand was being friendly? It had to be a ploy.

"What do you want, Rhysand?"

"Nothing really. Just because we have bad blood doesn't mean I should let it show at a public event when we clearly both have a mutual enemy." He gestured to Amarantha, who was leering in Tamlin's direction, "You said you don't trust her. And since I distinctly remember what she was like five hundred years ago, I have decided to trust your judgment."

"That's something I never expected to hear."

"Yeah? Well, congratulations. You have been promoted from my worst enemy to second-most enemy." He relaxed and took a sip of his wine, "Do you think she's going to strike tonight?"

"Don't know." Rhysand looked in Amarantha's direction, then back to Tamlin. Then they both jerked to look at Kallias as his knees buckled and he passed out. The same happened to the other two seasonal high lords, but Tamlin felt fine.

Thesan went down next, followed by Helion—the latter managing to somehow collapse sexily.

Tamlin's eyes widened as he realized what was causing this.

"Rhysand! It's the wine!" He then gasped as he saw Rhysand's eyes were glazed over, and the High Lord of Night's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he passed out into Tamlin's arms.

"Damnit!" Tamlin cursed, knowing that this curse had to be powerful if it was taking even Rhysand down. He saw an explosion of dark energy leave his former friend's body and fly away.

Amarantha walked up to Tamlin with a smirk on her face, "Look at what you've done, Tamlin. Refusing me, and now all the courts will pay."

"Bitch," Tamlin growled, realizing his powers weren't working like they were supposed to, "Why am I not asleep like them?"

Amarantha played with her eyeball ring and proceeded to explain the curse, and told everyone else the riddle with the clue to awaken their High Lord.

The last time Tamlin saw Rhysand was two servants pulling him out of Tamlin's arms and carrying him probably back to the night court.

Present-day

"Wow." Feyre breathed. Rhysand, from what she had heard about him, did not seem the type to hold a grudge, so whatever had happened between her beloved and him must be significant.

Tamlin shrugged, "Since it had been fifty years, I assumed the Night Court did what the Autumn Court did with Beron and just finish him off since he was never going to wake."

Feyre brightened as she got an idea, "Maybe Rhysand has been speaking to me because he wants to make things right too." Tamlin got up,

"No. You belong to the Spring Court, Feyre. You should be helping Ianthe plan our wedding, not galavanting in the Night Court trying to help a male you don't even know and it's doubtful he can even wake up at all!"

"And why is that!?"

"BECAUSE TRUE LOVE'S KISS IS THE  _ ONLY THING  _ THAT WILL BREAK THE SPELL!" Tamlin roared, his claws coming out, "You are my fiancé, and therefore you cannot help him." He sighed, calming down, "We'll talk more tonight. For now, go put on a nice dress and talk to Ianthe. Lucien should be coming back tonight, and I need to have words with him."

Feyre sighed. For a moment, she thought she was getting through to the Tamlin she used to know. But if true love's kiss was the only cure for the curse... Maybe Morrigan thought the power of all seven courts would override it? Rhysand had been asleep long enough that there really wasn't anything to lose.

Lucien would understand. She'd ask him to ask his father to request her in the Day Court, so Tamlin couldn't refuse. What better way to learn more about the curse than talk to someone who had recovered from it?

She was going to save Rhysand, no matter what. She didn't know what made her want to, but it was the right thing to do.


	6. In which Feyre leaves Tamlin and makes a plan

The day of Feyre and Tamlin's wedding arrived. Or rather, it would have. She and Tamlin got into another huge fight about Feyre wanting to do more than just sit around and look pretty, until it escalated to the point Tamlin hit her.

So now she was in her room with a nasty bruise on her cheek. And it was then that she came to her decision, going into Lucien's room. She hadn't been allowed to see him since he was a "bad influence," but right now she didn't care. 

Ianthe stopped her, "Feyre, you should be resting."

"Back off, Ianthe. I'm not staying here anymore." Ianthe was still in her way,

"Now come on, Feyre. Tamlin loves you, and you love him. This wedding is essential to the court." Feyre growled,

"To the court? I was going to marry him for my happiness, but does this," she gestured to the bruise on her face, "Say he loves me? So I'm getting out of here before Stolkholm Syndrome starts up again."

"What?" Feyre froze as she turned around and saw Tamlin looking at her, looking like a kicked puppy. But Feyre had decided enough was enough. She was getting out of here. He couldn't hold her here as he used to by saying the world was too dangerous. 

"I'm leaving, Tamlin." She said calmly, "I have decided that I don't want to be tied down. I'm going to explore. I am not a pet or a trophy wife. You said yourself when you first took me prisoner, here that I was free to go anywhere in Prythian."

"Things are different now, with you being my bride," Tamlin growled. Feyre clenched her fists,

"See, then you hit me. So if being engaged to you means I can't be free," she anger melted the ring on her finger, "I am not your fiancé anymore." She stormed off with a bag, only to run straight into a wall of air.

"You're not going anywhere." Tamlin seethed. Feyre was about to scream in frustration before she laughed. She screamed at her tattoo,

"Hey, Mor, come pick me up for my week. And I'm staying with you permanently." Morrigan appeared,

"Really—what happened to you?!"

"Tamlin happened," Feyre said, glaring darkly at Tamlin, who went to attack Morrigan, only to end up under her foot.

"I'm sorry," Morrigan said playfully, "I can't hear you with carpet in your teeth. Time to go, Feyre?" Feyre nodded, and the two vanished together.

OoOoO

In the Day Court, Feyre was enjoying her time with Pele, the Lady of the Day Court, and Lucien's mother. Helion was there too, discussing something in the corner with Morrigan, both looking quite concerned.

"So, you're planning to break the curse over Rhysand?" Pele asked, and smiled at Feyre's nod, "You'd like him. It's been a while since I saw him last, and I am not the person to explain the context, but he is a good male and a benevolent High Lord."

"I've been researching," Feyre said, "Some courts love him, but others fear him. Why?"

"I don't know for sure," Pele replied, "Anyone alive during the war would know Rhysand's nature, but as time goes by, the stereotype of Night meaning evil seems to become more apparent."

Helion walked over with Mor, "You want to know what it was like for me under the curse. At least that's what I understood from what Morrigan was saying." Feyre nodded, taking notes, and Helion sighed, his aura becoming somber, "It was...weird. I was only out for a couple of months, but it felt like I was sinking deeper into the depths of oblivion. I wouldn't say I was drowning, but it felt like I wasn't getting enough air and could have easily become a drowning feeling."

Feyre shuddered. If Helion had felt that after three months, what was Rhysand feeling after fifty years? No wonder he had been reaching out for help.

The conversation came to a halt when Lucien winnowed in, looking like he'd been to hell and back.

"What happened?!" Both Pele and Helion got up and helped Lucien sit down. He was cut up and a little bruised.

"T-Tamlin tore apart my room... the study, Feyre's room... I got caught in the crossfire when he went off on me for supposedly being a bad influence when I just told her not to be some meek and mild wife."

"You're kidding me, right?" Helion asked, clearly livid. Lucien shook his head, but his injuries started healing as he sat up,

"I'm alright. Winnowing away took a bit out of me, but some rest should have me good as new. Feyre, I'm proud of you for dumping him, you're too good for him. I think absence made the heart grow fonder when it comes to him." 

Feyre did feel guilty for breaking up with Tamlin if Lucien had been given hell because of it. But she knew she wasn't going to put up with him being abusive like that. And it wasn't like she was leaving him for another male. She left him because he treated her like property, and she wanted to help the Night Court, who had become close to her.

Morrigan wrapped an arm around Feyre, "Feyre, you did the right thing. Thank you, Helion, Pele, but you two should spend some time taking care of Lucien. I'll take Feyre back to the Night Court to consult with the Inner Circle. We'll meet up in a week. Plan?" "

Nods all around, and Morrigan winnowed herself and Feyre to the Night Court, where they walked up to Rhysand's tower and met up with the rest of the Inner Circle.

"Feyre," Morrigan said, "It's time we let you know everything."

So they told her about the temple raids done by Hybern, likely in an attempt to rebuild the cauldron.

Feyre looked to Rhysand, "Do you think maybe the cauldron could wake him up?"

"That's what I was thinking," Amren said, "The Book of Breathings, which has the power to nullify the cauldron, might hold a clue to whether the cauldron could wake him up. But the problem is that one half is in the Summer Court, and the other is with the mortal queens, who have been very stubborn."

Feyre sighed, unsure of what to do about that before an idea came to her to use her sisters. But then she shook the thought off, deciding there had to be another way.

Cassian looked down at Rhysand, and back at Feyre with a look of wonder, "That bruise, when did you get it?"

"About two days ago. Why?" Feyre asked, gently touching that tender part of her cheek. While it had healed over, for the most part, it was mostly just a phantom feeling with only a tiny bit of visible injury.

Cassian looked down at Rhysand again, "Because two days ago, his breath hitched. Might not sound like much, but I think he was reacting to you getting hurt."

Everyone now looked to Rhysand, who was just as still as he had been for fifty years. Morrigan gaped, Azriel pursed his lips, and Amren grinned in Feyre's direction,

"Well, clearly you are a rope for him, Feyre," she said, "And it seems you may be the only one able to pull him back." She looked to Morrigan, "Do you think she could try communicating with him right now?"

Morrigan sent Amren a look, "She's not trained enough for that."

"Yes, but Rhys might let her in," Cassian pointed out, "No training required." Feyre nodded to herself,

"I'll try talking to him. I might need a couple of pointers, though." 

Amren instructed her how to do it, and Feyre focused everything she had on entering Rhysand's mind, imagining his violet eyes.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a world of endless black, and Rhysand was the only thing she could see. He had his knees pressed up against his chest and seemed to be shaking.

Feyre placed a hand on his shoulder, "Rhys?" He jolted at the sudden contact, before turning to look at her with wide eyes,

"Feyre? How did you get here?"

"Amren showed me how to get in," she explained, "I'm here to help you."

He stared at her in awe for a second, before struggling to stand, "Feyre, are you alright?" She frowned before remembered what triggered a response from him,

"I'm fine. Tamlin just gave me more reason not to marry him." Rhysand looked like he'd been slapped when she said Tamlin's name, before returning to normal,

"Well, I'm glad you're away from him. But you need to stay away from this, the mess I'm in is a dangerous one."

"If you're referring to Amarantha, she's dead. Mor helped me take her down. I wanted to tell you those other times, but this is the first time we've been able to talk for long periods."

Rhys sighed, but it was evident that news of Amarantha's defeat was music to his ears, "I...Is that why I felt you die?"

"Yes. But Mor and the other high lords brought me back within five minutes. Rhys, tell me how to wake you up. The Inner Circle has been trying everything for fifty years now."

Rhysand let go of her hand, and Feyre only then realized he had even held her hand, to begin with. He smiled softly, "Do you remember the riddle Amarantha gave you?"

"Yes. The answer was love." Feyre's eyes widened, "Tamlin said true love's kiss was the only way. Are you telling me not even the cauldron could wake you?"

Rhysand shrugged, "I suppose the cauldron could, but I can feel my spirit ebbing away as each day passes. Without you, I'm sure I would have faded long ago. By the time we find the cauldron, it might be too late."

"But what if this love of yours isn't even born yet?" She asked worriedly. Not only did she want to know him, but she knew Morrigan and the Inner Circle wanted nothing more than to have him back, "The Inner Circle and I are willing to try anything. If Hybern is going to attack the wall and the human realm, we need your help."

Rhysand smirked for a second, "If you are honest when you say you want to know and will try anything, Feyre, my mate is a lot closer than you would think." He looked around, "You have to leave, quickly, before you get trapped here too. Please, go."

And the Feyre shot awake, surrounded by the Inner Circle.

"What did he say?" Azriel asked. Feyre brightened, 

"He said his mate is a lot closer than we'd think. But... he also said that he's fading fast, and it might be too late before we retrieve the cauldron from Hybern."

"Too late?" Amren wondered, "Are we working against the clock?" 

"Yes. Rhys said he felt as though his spirit was ebbing away."

Morrigan nodded bitterly to herself, "That makes sense, with him having been under the curse for fifty years now—wait, Feyre, where are you going?" 

Feyre was walking down the stairs, "I'm going with Lucien. Can I have a spare cloak?"

"Sure," Cassian said, "Why do you need it?"

She turned to face him, "Because I just remembered an old friend of mine who will know who Rhys' mate is or an alternate way to wake him: I'm going to find the Suriel."


	7. In Which Feyre Goes to the Suriel and Does Some Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back after writer's block for months!

"How has nobody thought to find the Suriel before this?" Lucien asked as Feyre succeeded in making her trap. She shrugged,

"Maybe they don't know how to catch one? Come on. We should hide." They waited behind a tree together, and both grinned when the trap sprung mere minutes later, and they saw the Suriel.

It was as horrific as she remembered: tattered robes barely concealing a body made of not skin, but what looked to be robust, worn bone. Its lipless mouth held too-large teeth, and its fingers—long, spindly—clicked against each other while it weighed the beautiful cloak she'd laid in the center of my snare as if the cloth had been blown in on the wind.

"Feyre Cursebreaker," it said, turning toward her, in a voice that was both one and many. Lucien was watching from behind a tree, fascinated.

Feyre lowered her bow. "I need you." Time—she was running out of time to save Rhys. She could feel it, that urgency begging her to hurry through the bond. "I have questions."

It smiled, each of those stained, too-large brown teeth visible. "You have three questions."

An answer and an order.

Feyre didn't waste time, "Is there a cure beside Rhysand's mate to break the curse?"

"There is not." 

"Where do I find his mate?"

The Suriel clicked its bone fingers against each other as if the answer lay inside the sound. "In the forest."

Feyre hissed, her brows flattening. "Please—please don't be cryptic. Who is his mate?"

"You, Cursebreaker."

With a gasp, Feyre accidentally fired her arrow at the snare. The trap sprang free. And the word clicked through her.

Mate.

"What did you say?"

The Suriel rose to its full height, towering over her even from across the clearing. She had not realized that despite the bone, it was muscled—powerful.

The Suriel paused and grinned, showing nearly all of those brown, thick teeth. "You did not know, then."

"Say it," Feyre gritted out.

"The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate. You are the one whose kiss can wake him from the endless slumber he is trapped in."

Feyre wasn't entirely sure she was breathing.

"Interesting," the Suriel said.

Mate. 

Mate.

_ Mate _.

Rhys was her mate.

Not lover, not husband, but much more than that. A bond that was so deep, so permanent that it was honored over all others. Rare, cherished.

Not Tamlin's mate.

_ Rhysand's _.

The words slipped out of her, low and twisted, "Does the Inner Circle know?"

"Feyre, I can already promise you I didn't know," Lucien said, coming out from behind the tree, and she noticed he sounded just as shocked as her. He meant it when he said he had no idea.

The Suriel clenched the robes of its new cloak in its bone-fingers. "Yes, and the Heir of Day is sincere in his lack of knowledge."

"For a long while?" Feyre asked, referring to the Inner Circle

"Yes. Since the day you were born, and he momentarily awoke and whispered your name." The Suriel cocked its head. "You are—you are feeling too much, too fast. I cannot read it."

"How can I possibly be his mate?" Mates were equals—matched, at least in some ways.

"He is the most powerful High Lord to ever walk this earth. You are… new. You are made of all seven High Lords. Unlike anything. Are you two not similar in that? Are you not match?" Mate. And he knew—he'd known.

Feyre glanced toward Lucien, and she momentarily found herself in the room where Rhys slept. When she looked back at the Suriel, it was gone.

OoOoO

There was a deep, sunken tub in the floor of the room Lucien had given her in the Day Palace, where she was staying until she wrapped her mind around the knowledge which had been hidden from her, and thought about a course of action. 

Feyre filled it with water near-scalding, not caring how the magic operated, only that it worked. Hissing and wincing, she climbed in.

She washed with dark soap that smelled of lemon and honey, and when she was done, she sat there, watching the steam slither amongst the few candles.

Mate.

The word chased her from the bath sooner than she wanted and hounded her as she pulled on the clothes she'd found in a drawer of the bedroom: pale leggings, a large, cream-colored sweater that hung to mid-thigh, and thin socks. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since the day before, because—

_ There you are. I've been looking for you. _

Morrigan's first words to her—not a lie at all, not a threat to keep those faeries away.

_ Thank you for finding her for me. _

Feyre found a container of soup on the wood counter that Lucien must have brought in, and scrounged up a cast iron pot to heat it. Fresh, crusty bread sat near the stove, and she ate half of it while waiting for the soup to warm.

They had known the day she was born. But… none of them had told her. Had they wanted her to figure it out on her own? In hindsight, she wondered how she hadn't seen the signs since she was the only one Rhys called to.

She ate her dinner in silence, with only the murmuring fire for company.

And beneath the barrage of her thoughts, a throb of relief.

Her relationship with Tamlin had been doomed from the start. She had left—only to find her mate. To go to her sleeping mate.

But Morrigan had known, according to this letter Lucien had handed her. The entire Inner Circle and realized she'd react badly. The hope had been either Feyre would find out on her own, or they would find a different way to wake him up so they could get to know each other better.

And what if she had known? What if she had known that Rhys was her mate while she'd loved Tamlin, instead of just a burning desire to help?

She washed the dishes, swept the crumbs off the small dining table between the kitchen and living area, and climbed into one of the beds.

Mate.

Her mate.

Her Sleeping Beauty.

Feyre found herself drifting off, and the was in that empty land with Rhys being the only being in sight and sound.

She stared at Rhys. He stared at her.

Mate.

This beautiful, strong, from what Morrigan and the others had said, selfless male… 

She smiled, "Hello, Rhys."

She could have sworn she felt a pulse of knee-wobbling relief through the bond.

"H-Hello." He stammered. More silence, and he rubbed the back of his neck, nervously, "You know the truth, then?"

Feyre nodded. "Tell me the story—tell me everything."

For a moment, there was only silence, sitting on the emptiness, grey-blue meeting violet.

Rhys sat down, and she followed, "Are you sure?" Feyre nodded, and Rhys explained everything, not leaving out any detail, just as she had wanted. There were moments he paused, his breath hitching like he would cry, such as when he was explaining why he hated Tamlin—what happened to his mother and sister. And she listened the whole time, enraptured by his tale. Until eventually, they got to the part where he learned of her.

"It was endless blackness until I felt a pulse." he explained, "I had a strength I hadn't had in decades, and found myself in a house, and I heard your name. I knew the moment I saw you before being pulled back into the darkness that you were my mate. I was… thrilled that I even had a mate. Then it was nothingness again until what I would assume was three years ago," he said quietly, "I began to have these… dreams. At first, they were glimpses, as if I were staring through someone else's eyes. A crackling hearth in a dark home. A bale of hay in a barn. A warren of rabbits. The images were foggy, like looking through cloudy glass. They were brief—a flash here and there, every few months. I thought nothing of them until one of the images was of a hand… This beautiful, human hand. Holding a brush. Painting—flowers on a table."

Her heart stopped beating.

"And that time, I pushed a thought back. Of the night sky—of the image that brought me joy when I needed it most. The open night sky, stars, and the moon. I didn't know if it was received, but I tried anyway."

She wasn't sure she was breathing.

"Those dreams—the flashes of that person, that woman I was sure was my mate… I treasured them. They were a reminder that there was some peace out there in the world, some light. That there was a place, and a person who had enough safety to paint flowers on a table. They went on for years, until… about six months ago. This vision was clearer and brighter like that fog had been wiped away. She—you were dreaming. I was in your dream, watching as you had a nightmare about some woman slitting your throat, while you were chased by the Bogge… I couldn't reach you, speak to you. But you saw our kind. And I realized that the fog had probably been the wall and that you… you were now in Prythian. I saw you through your dreams—and I hoarded the images, sorting through them over and over again, trying to place where you were, who you were. But you had such horrible nightmares, and the creatures belonged to all courts. Even if I had learned where you were, I couldn't reach you, I couldn't wake up, the curse was too powerful. Our connection wasn't strong enough for me to talk to you in your dreams either, no matter how hard I tried, to tell you to get away, to escape, and go back to the other side of the wall."

He hesitated, voice trembling.

"But then Amarantha snapped your neck." Tears rolled down his face. "And I felt you die," he whispered.

Tears were sliding down her own cheeks.

"And this beautiful, wonderful thing that had come into my life, this gift from the Cauldron… It was gone. In my desperation, I clung to that bond, and I tugged, I willed you to hold on, to stay with me, because if we could get free…" His hands were shaking. "Maybe that was the moment I used too much power and started truly ebbing away, but I don't care. I tried to wake up, use Amarantha's death, and the releasing of the power-weakening aspect of the curse, but I couldn't. But when you became Fae, I noticed our bond was more noticeable by you, and I was able to talk to you."

He leaned back, losing a long breath.

"I'm grateful I get to talk to you to know you. But… Feyre, if you don't want this, I will not ask you to wake me up the way you'd have to. As long as you are happy, I'm okay with staying in this place forever.

Feyre wiped her eyes, locking eyes with him still, "You love me?"

Rhys nodded.

And she wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt. For what she felt for him.

She pressed her forehead against his, "Just hang on for a little longer. I'm going to wake you up."

Rhysand's eyes were wide, and he reached for the hand cupping his cheek, smiling with wet eyes, "Thank you, Feyre."

Feyre jolted awake and knew what she had to do. She loved Rhys, her mate. And she had said she would do anything to help wake him up, and that was precisely what she was going to do.

Getting dressed and grabbing some weapons, she was getting ready to go and get Lucien to let him know she had made her choice. She threw on some boots and briskly walked through the stunning gardens on the Day Court, and noticed the sunflowers towering over even the tallest Fae.

"Feyre."

She whirled, arrow nocked and aimed at the source of the voice—

Four Spring Court sentinels stalked behind her like wraiths, armed to the teeth and wide-eyed. Two, she knew: Bron and Hart. 

And between them stood Tamlin. 

His golden hair was tied back, and there wasn't a hint of finery on him: just armored leather, swords, knives ... His green eyes roamed over her, his golden skin pale. "I figured I would find you either here or in Night," he breathed, now scanning the garden, the stream, the sky.

"How did you find me?" Feyre's steady, cold voice wasn't one she recognized. If Tamlin was here… Her blood went icy.

"Someone tipped us off you'd been out here, but it was lucky that we caught your scent on the wind, and—" Tamlin took a step toward her.

Feyre stepped back, wondering if Helion and Pele knew he was here yet because she doubted they would have willingly let him come. If she had to guess, Tamlin was here without permission and hoping to retrieve her before anyone would notice.

Tamlin's eye widened slightly. "We need to get out of here. I'll take you—"

"No," she breathed.

The four sentinels glanced between each other, then to the arrow, I kept aimed.

Tamlin took her in again.

And she could see what he was now gleaning: the Illyrian fighting leathers. And the silent steel of my eyes.

"Feyre," he said, holding out a hand. "Let's go home."

She didn't move. "That stopped being my home the day you hit me and tried to lock me up inside of it."

Tamlin's mouth tightened. "It was a mistake. We all made mistakes. I'm sorry—sorrier than you realize." He stepped toward her, and she backed up another few inches. Once Tamlin touched her, he'd winnow them out. 

"Feyre," Tamlin pleaded and dared another step, his hand outstretched.

"Put the arrow down," Tamlin murmured like he was soothing a wild animal. Behind him, the four sentinels closed in. He was herding her. The High Lord's pet and possession.

"Don't," she breathed. "Touch. Me."

"You don't understand the mess we're in, Feyre. We—I need you home. Now." Feyre didn't want to hear it. Peering at the garden behind, she calculated her odds of being able to outrun him.

But the look cost her. Tamlin lunged, hand out. One-touch, that was all it'd take—but Feyre was not the High Lord's _ pet _ any longer. And maybe the world should learn that she did indeed have fangs.

Tamlin's finger grazed the sleeve of her leather jacket.

And she became smoke and ash and Night.

The world stilled and bent, and there was Tamlin, lunging slowly for what was now blank space as she stepped around him and hurtled for the trees behind the sentinels.

She stopped, and time resumed its natural flow. Tamlin staggered, catching himself—and whirled, eye wide to discover her now standing behind his sentinels. Bron and Hart flinched and backed away. From her.

And from Lucien at her side.

Tamlin froze. Feyre made my face a mirror of ice, the unfeeling twin to the amusement on Lucien's features, a look which had been practiced to stand up to his former best friend.

"Tamlin," Lucien purred. "Didn't anyone tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?"

"Prick," Tamlin snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. "You're my friend, and you should know I need Feyre back, but you're harboring her here."

Feyre loosed a growl. "Don't come looking for me again," she said with equal softness.

"I'll never stop looking for you; never stop waiting for you to come home."

The words hit her in the gut—like they were meant to. It must have shown in her face because Tamlin pressed, "What did Morrigan do to you? Did she take your mind and—"

"Enough," Lucien said, angling his head with that casual grace of the Heir of the Day Court, and he was letting his former friend know that. "Feyre and I are busy. Go back to your lands before I point out to my parents that you are here uninvited and trying to take their guest."

Tamlin's face was deathly pale, but both Feyre and Lucien knew Tamlin wasn't afraid of going to way with Day to get Feyre back, meaning they had to head back to NightNight quickly. "You made your point, Feyre—now come home."

"I'm not a child playing games," Feyre said through her teeth. That's how Tamlin saw her: in need of coddling, explaining, defending ...

"Careful, Tamlin," Lucien drawled. "Or Feyre darling will send you back in pieces."

"I'm not your enemy, Feyre," Tamlin pleaded. "Things got bad, Ianthe got out of hand, but it doesn't mean you give up—"

"You gave up," I breathed. I felt even Rhys go still. "You gave up on me," I said a bit more loudly.

Tamlin said too quietly, "And I suppose the Night Court is so much better?"

Feyre remembered—remembered what she was supposed to know, to have experienced. What Tamlin and the others could never know, not even if it meant forfeiting her own life.

And she would. To keep Velaris safe, to keep Mor and Amren and Cassian and Azriel and… Rhys safe.

She said to Tamlin, low and quiet and as vicious as the talons that formed at the tips of my fingers, as cruel as the wondrous weight between my shoulder blades, "When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Tamlin, you find that the darkness begins to stare back."

A pulse of surprise, of wicked delight against my mental shields, at the dark, membranous wings I knew were now poking over my shoulders. 

Tamlin backed up a step. "What did you do to yourself?"

She gave him a little smile. "The human girl you knew died Under the Mountain. I have no interest in spending immortality as a High Lord's pet."

Tamlin started shaking his head. "Feyre—"

"If you send anyone else into these or any lands," she said, "I will hunt each and every one of you down. And I will demonstrate exactly what the darkness taught me." It was a lie, and she didn't know how she could do half of this stuff right now and figured adrenaline was the culprit.

There was something like genuine pain on his face.

Tamlin nodded to his sentinels. Bron and Hart, wide-eyed and shaking, vanished with the other two. But he lingered for a moment, nothing but air between them. He said softly to Lucien, "You're dead. You, and your entire cursed court."

Then he was gone. Feyre stared at the empty space where he'd been, waiting, not letting that expression off her face until a warm, strong finger traced a line down the edge of her right-wing.

Feyre shuddered, arching as a gasp came out of her.

And then Lucien was in front of her, scanning my face, the wings behind her. "How?" 

"Shape-shifting," she managed to say, "But I don't know…" she tensed, hearing a voice in her head,

_ "Impressive, Feyre…" _

"Rhys." She instantly realized who had been teaching her to do that, guiding her through it.


	8. In Which Feyre Wakes Up Rhys

It was strange—the sense of deja vu she was feeling even though this was the first time she had ever raced to the tower with the intention to wake her sleeping mate from this curse, hoping he hadn't faded away by the time she got to the tower. 

Between winnowing and running as fast as she could, her whole body was screaming at each step she took, but her only thought was to get to him. 

The thought of the sleeping male, with those violet eyes and smile that could light the darkest night, made her heart soar, giving her a much-needed boost as she approached the tall tower that kept him safe until her arrival. Not just that, but they could save Prythian together and resolve this threat.

She ran up the stairs, and nothing would stop her now. She needed to know that he was safe. Sleep and rest would come later.

Out of breath, Feyre reached the room, bathed in the soft, colorful glow of twilight. Her eyes filled with tears of joy as she saw the raven-haired male's sleeping form on the bed. 

She was surprised to see Morrigan there, "Feyre! We've been worried about you... I heard that Lucien—look, about not telling you about Rhys being your mate—"

"I understand why you didn't." Feyre whispered, gazing over at Rhys, "He does too." Morrigan gaped, and Feyre nodded, "I talked to him, Mor. He's still in there, and he told me everything." A smile made itself known on her face, "He's incredible."

Morrigan was silent for a moment before taking a sigh of relief, "I suppose your bond is what makes you able to talk to him. Does this mean you're going to wake him?"

Feyre nodded, slowly walking towards Rhys and sitting next to him. Never had she seen anyone as beautiful and calm as him at that moment. His thick, black eyelashes complemented his tan skin, and raven hair was gently brushed back, his hands folded over his stomach. His lips were chapped like he hadn't had a drink in days, his mouth a tiny bit open, showing the ghost of a smile. 

She caught her breath as she sat on the edge of the bed and took his rough and calloused hands in hers, remembering those dreams she had had in the Spring Court. Right now, this moment was like those dreams, but so much better, knowing why she loved him, and soon they would have all the time they needed to know each other even better—and he could know her.

"It's time to wake up now," she said in a soft whisper, and then looked up to Mor, smiling sheepishly, "Do you mind giving the two of us a moment alone? I'm sure the rest of the Inner Circle would be thrilled to see him awake." Morrigan nodded, her face glowing with hope and joy as though this was the best day of her life as she retreated down the stairs. 

Feyre chuckled as Morrigan left, and looked back at Rhys, cupping his cheek. Even though she knew he was her mate, she still felt knots in her stomach—this was the most significant moment in her immortal life and the High Lord's return. 

She placed her forehead against his, preparing herself for this, nervous despite herself. Nothing would take him from her anymore, and they were going to fight Hybern together.

This was it.

With the gentlest of touches, her lips brushed against his. She wasn't expecting the searing hot feeling that shot into her whole body at the faintest touch of their lips. It was as if a living thing had just embraced them both and wrapped around them in a protective cocoon.

This was it—the power of true love.

Slowly she felt his lips move against hers. Choking down a sob, she rested her forehead against his.

"Hello, Feyre Darling," she heard Rhys whisper, and she noticed his whole body was covered in a dark glow for a moment as his powers as High Lord returned to him. His hand found the back of her head and pulled her in for a deeper kiss, "Looks like you've woken up Sleeping Beauty."

Feyre laughed, helping him sit up, and suddenly the door was thrown open as the Inner Circle ran in. Amren smirked a little bit, Azriel looked on the brink of tears, and Cassian ran over to Rhys, who was about to get out of bed and then fell onto the floor on shaky legs. Feyre giggled as Cassian scooped Rhys up, hugging him,

"You're finally awake!" Rhys was still sitting up, grinning,

"I am—though it seems I'm out of practice walking or fighting, so I'll need to train to get back to normal."

"Well, I am happy to assist," Cassion encouraged, and Rhys found himself enveloped in a hug by both Azriel and Mor, who were crying.

Feyre stepped back as the Inner Circle, even Amren, ended up in a group hug, laughing and crying together, seeing Rhys was awake for the first time in half a century. Even if she was Rhys' mate, it still felt out of place to join in on this moment between the group, and she stared out the window, about to leave to give them some time. 

_ "And where are you going?" _ She heard Rhys' voice in her head, and she turned, seeing Rhys was holding out his hand towards her, "Get in here, you're one of us too."

Feyre flushed a bit, _ "Are you sure? You haven't seen your friends in—" _

_"Oh come on, I'm sure they all want to hug you too—well, maybe not Amren since she isn't the type, but you get what I mean."_

Relenting, Feyre joined in the group hug, and they stayed like that for a while, before they all broke apart, still lingering near the bed as Rhys looked around at everyone.

"I'm happy to see you guys again," he said, "What have I missed?"

Everyone looked at each other and, even though they were all still smiling, cringed a little. 

This was going to be a long story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after this it's the end of Mist and Fury with Nesta and Elain, and then the events of Wings and Ruin after Feyre returned to the Spring Court. I would write that, but it's basically the same as the books with small changes from this point on.
> 
> Sorry that writer's block made me take forever with this, and thank you all for being patient with me.

**Author's Note:**

> The only reason Rhysand knew Feyre was his mate is because of the curse making him aware of who can wake him up. 
> 
> This is an AU, introducing the Inner Circle earlier on in the story, and Mor is taking the place of Rhys for the most part.


End file.
